exhilaration contending with pitiful bodily weakness. "Asenath," said
he, "I have now obtained the last ingredient. In one week from now the
perilous moment of the last projection will draw nigh. You have once
before assisted, although unconsciously, at the failure of a similar
experiment. It was the elixir which so terribly exploded one night when
you were passing my house; and it is idle to deny that the conduct of so
delicate a process, among the million jars and trepidations of so great
a city, presents a certain element of danger. From this point of view, I
cannot but regret the perfect stillness of my house among the deserts;
but, on the other hand, I have succeeded in proving that the singularly
unstable equilibrium of the elixir, at the moment of projection, is due
rather to the impurity than to the nature of the ingredients; and as all
are now of an equal and exquisite nicety, I have little fear for the
result. In a week then from to-day, my dear Asenath, this period of
trial will be ended." And he smiled upon me in a manner unusually
paternal.
I smiled back with my lips, but at my heart there raged the blackest and
most unbridled terror. What if he failed? And oh, tenfold worse! what if
he succeeded? What detested and unnatural changeling would appear before
me to claim my hand? And could there, I asked myself with a dreadful
sinking, be any truth in his boasts of an assured victory over my
reluctance? I knew him, indeed, to be masterful, to lead my life at a
sign. Suppose, then, this experiment to succeed; suppose him to return
to me, hideously restored, like a vampire in a legend; and suppose that,
by some devilish fascination.... My head turned; all former fears
deserted me; and I felt I could embrace the worst in preference to this.
My mind was instantly made up. The doctor's presence in London was
justified by the affairs of the Mormon polity. Often, in our
conversation, he would gloat over the details of that great
organisation, which he feared even while yet he wielded it; and would
remind me that, even in the humming labyrinth of London, we were still
visible to that unsleeping eye in Utah. His visitors, indeed, who were
of every sort, from the missionary to the destroying angel, and seemed
to belong to every rank of life, had, up to that moment, filled me with
unmixed repulsion and alarm. I knew that if my secret were to reach the
ear of any leader my fate were sealed beyond redemption; and yet in my
present pass of horror and despair, it was to these very men that I
turned for help. I waylaid upon the stair one of the Mormon
missionaries, a man of a low class, but not inaccessible to pity; told
him I scarce remember what elaborate fable to explain my application;
and by his intermediacy entered into correspondence with my father's
family. They recognised my claim for help, and on this very day I was to
begin my escape.
Last night I sat up fully dressed, awaiting the result of the doctor's
labours, and prepared against the worst. The nights at this season and
in this northern latitude are short; and I had soon the company of the
returning daylight. The silence in and around the house was only broken
by the movements of the doctor in the laboratory; to these I listened,
watch in hand, awaiting the hour of my escape, and yet consumed by
anxiety about the strange experiment that was going forward overhead.
Indeed, now that I was conscious of some protection for myself, my
sympathies had turned more directly to the doctor's side; I caught
myself even praying for his success; and when some hours ago a low,
peculiar cry reached my ears from the laboratory, I could no longer
control my impatience, but mounted the stairs and opened the door.
The doctor was standing in the middle of the room; in his hand a large,
round-bellied, crystal flask, some three parts full of a bright
amber-coloured liquid; on his face a rapture of gratitude and joy
unspeakable. As he saw me he raised the flask at arm's-length.
"Victory!" he cried. "Victory, Asenath!" And then--whether the flask
escaped his trembling fingers, or whether the explosion was spontaneous,
I cannot tell--enough that we were thrown, I against the door-post, the
doctor into the corner of the room; enough that we were shaken to the
soul by the same explosion that must have startled you upon the street;
and that, in the brief space of an indistinguishable instant, there
remained nothing of the labours of the doctor's lifetime but a few
shards of broken crystal and those voluminous and ill-smelling vapours
that pursued me in my flight.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] In this name the accent falls upon the _e_; the _s_ is sibilant.
THE SQUIRE OF DAMES (_concluded_)
What with the lady's animated manner and dramatic conduct of her voice,
Challoner had thrilled to every incident with genuine emotion. His
fancy, which was not perhaps of a very lively character, applauded both
the matter and the style; but the more judicial functions of his mind
refused assent. It was an excellent story; and it might be true, but he
believed it was not. Miss Fonblanque was a lady, and it was doubtless
possible for a lady to wander from the truth; but how was a gentleman to
tell her so? His spirits for some time had been sinking, but they now
fell to zero; and long after her voice had died away he still sat with a
troubled and averted countenance, and could find no form of words to
thank her for her narrative. His mind, indeed, was empty of everything
beyond a dull longing for escape. From this pause, which grew the more
embarrassing with every second, he was roused by the sudden laughter of
the lady. His vanity was alarmed; he turned and faced her; their eyes
met; and he caught from hers a spark of such frank merriment as put him
instantly at ease.
"You certainly," he said, "appear to bear your calamities with excellent
spirit."
"Do I not?" she cried, and fell once more into delicious laughter. But
from this access she more speedily recovered. "This is all very well,"
said she, nodding at him gravely, "but I am still in a most distressing
situation, from which, if you deny me your help, I shall find it
difficult indeed to free myself."
At this mention of help Challoner fell back to his original gloom.
"My sympathies are much engaged with you," he said, "and I should be
delighted, I am sure. But our position is most unusual; and
circumstances over which I have, I can assure you, no control, deprive
me of the power--the pleasure----Unless, indeed," he added, somewhat
brightening at the thought, "I were to recommend you to the care of the
police?"
She laid her hand upon his arm and looked hard into his eyes; and he saw
with wonder that, for the first time since the moment of their meeting,
every trace of colour had faded from her cheek.
"Do so," she said, "and--weigh my words well--you kill me as certainly
as with a knife."
"God bless me!" exclaimed Challoner.
"Oh," she cried, "I can see you disbelieve my story, and make light of
the perils that surround me; but who are you to judge? My family share
my apprehensions; they help me in secret; and you saw yourself by what
an emissary, and in what a place, they have chosen to supply me with the
funds for my escape. I admit that you are brave and clever, and have
impressed me most favourably; but how are you to prefer your opinion
before that of my uncle, an ex-minister of State, a man with the ear of
the Queen, and of a long political experience? If I am mad, is he? And
you must allow me, besides, a special claim upon your help. Strange as
you may think my story, you know that much of it is true; and if you who
heard the explosion, and saw the Mormon at Victoria, refuse to credit
and assist me, to whom am I to turn?"
"He gave you money then?" asked Challoner, who had been dwelling singly
on that fact.
"I begin to interest you," she cried. "But, frankly, you are condemned
to help me. If the service I had to ask of you were serious, were
suspicious, were even unusual, I should say no more. But what is it? To
take a pleasure trip (for which, if you will suffer me, I propose to
pay) and to carry from one lady to another a sum of money! What can be
more simple?"
"Is the sum," asked Challoner, "considerable?"
She produced a packet from her bosom; and observing that she had not yet
found time to make the count, tore open the cover and spread upon her
knees a considerable number of Bank of England notes. It took some time
to make the reckoning, for the notes were of every degree of value; but
at last, and counting a few loose sovereigns, she made out the sum to be
a little under L710 sterling. The sight of so much money worked an
immediate revolution in the mind of Challoner.
"And you propose, madam," he cried, "to intrust that money to a perfect
stranger?"
"Ah!" said she, with a charming smile, "but I no longer regard you as a
stranger."
"Madam," said Challoner, "I perceive I must make you a confession.
Although of a very good family--through my mother, indeed, a lineal
descendant of the patriot Bruce--I dare not conceal from you that my
affairs are deeply, very deeply, involved. I am in debt; my pockets are
practically empty; and, in short, I am fallen to that state when a
considerable sum of money would prove to many men an irresistible
temptation."
"Do you not see," returned the young lady, "that by these words you have
removed my last hesitation? Take them." And she thrust the notes into
the young man's hand.
He sat so long, holding them, like a baby at the font, that Miss
Fonblanque once more bubbled into laughter.
"Pray," she said, "hesitate no further; put them in your pocket; and to
relieve our position of any shadow of embarrassment, tell me by what
name I am to address my knight-errant, for I find myself reduced to the
awkwardness of the pronoun."
Had borrowing been in question, the wisdom of our ancestors had come
lightly to the young man's aid; but upon what pretext could he refuse so
generous a trust? Upon none, he saw, that was not unpardonably wounding;
and the bright eyes and the high spirits of his companion had already
made a breach in the rampart of Challoner's caution. The whole thing, he
reasoned, might be a mere mystification, which it were the height of
solemn folly to resent. On the other hand, the explosion, the interview
at the public-house, and the very money in his hands, seemed to prove
beyond denial the existence of some serious danger; and if that were so,
could he desert her? There was a choice of risks: the risk of behaving
with extraordinary incivility and unhandsomeness to a lady, and the risk
of going on a fool's errand. The story seemed false; but then the money
was undeniable. The whole circumstances were questionable and obscure;
but the lady was charming, and had the speech and manners of society.
While he still hung in the wind, a recollection returned upon his mind
with some of the dignity of prophecy. Had he not promised Somerset to
break with the traditions of the commonplace, and to accept the first
adventure offered? Well, here was the adventure.
He thrust the money into his pocket.
"My name is Challoner," said he.
"Mr. Challoner," she replied, "you have come very generously to my aid
when all was against me. Though I am myself a very humble person, my
family commands great interest; and I do not think you will repent this
handsome action."
Challoner flushed with pleasure.
"I imagine that, perhaps, a consulship," she added, her eyes dwelling on
him with a judicial admiration, "a consulship in some great town or
capital--or else----But we waste time; let us set about the work of my
delivery."
She took his arm with a frank confidence that went to his heart; and
once more laying by all serious thoughts, she entertained him, as they
crossed the park, with her agreeable gaiety of mind. Near the Marble
Arch they found a hansom, which rapidly conveyed them to the terminus at
Euston Square; and here, in the hotel, they sat down to an excellent
breakfast. The young lady's first step was to call for writing
materials, and write, upon one corner of the table, a hasty note; still,
as she did so, glancing with smiles at her companion. "Here," said she,
"here is the letter which will introduce you to my cousin." She began to
fold the paper. "My cousin, although I have never seen her, has the
character of a very charming woman and a recognised beauty; of that I
know nothing, but at least she has been very kind to me; so has my lord
her father; so have you--kinder than all--kinder than I can bear to
think of." She said this with unusual emotion; and, at the same time,
sealed the envelope. "Ah!" she cried, "I have shut my letter! It is not
quite courteous; and yet, as between friends, it is perhaps better so. I
introduce you, after all, into a family secret; and though you and I are
already old comrades, you are still unknown to my uncle. You go, then,
to this address, Richard Street, Glasgow; go, please, as soon as you
arrive; and give this letter with your own hands into those of Miss
Fonblanque, for that is the name by which she is to pass. When we next
meet, you will tell me what you think of her," she added, with a touch
of the provocative.
"Ah," said Challoner, almost tenderly, "she can be nothing to me."
"You do not know," replied the young lady, with a sigh. "By the by, I
had forgotten--it is very childish, and I am almost ashamed to mention
it--but when you see Miss Fonblanque, you will have to make yourself a
little ridiculous; and I am sure the part in no way suits you. We had
agreed upon a watchword. You will have to address an earl's daughter in
these words: '_Nigger_, _nigger, never die_'; but reassure yourself,"
she added, laughing, "for the fair patrician will at once finish the
quotation. Come now, say your lesson."
"'Nigger, nigger, never die,'" repeated Challoner, with undisguised
reluctance.
Miss Fonblanque went into fits of laughter. "Excellent," said she, "it
will be the most humorous scene!" And she laughed again.
"And what will be the counterword?" asked Challoner stiffly.
"I will not tell you till the last moment," said she; "for I perceive
you are growing too imperious."
Breakfast over, she accompanied the young man to the platform, bought
him the _Graphic_, the _Athenaeum_, and a paper-cutter, and stood on the
step conversing till the whistle sounded. Then she put her head into the
carriage. "_Black face and shining eye!_" she whispered, and instantly
leaped down upon the platform, with a trill of gay and musical laughter.
As the train steamed out of the great arch of glass, the sound of that
laughter still rang in the young man's ears.
Challoner's position was too unusual to be long welcome to his mind. He
found himself projected the whole length of England, on a mission beset
with obscure and ridiculous circumstances, and yet, by the trust he had
accepted, irrevocably bound to persevere. How easy it appeared, in the
retrospect, to have refused the whole proposal, returned the money, and
gone forth again upon his own affairs, a free and happy man! And it was
now impossible: the enchantress who had held him with her eye had now
disappeared, taking his honour in pledge; and as she had failed to leave
him an address, he was denied even the inglorious safety of retreat. To
use the paper-knife, or even to read the periodicals with which she had
presented him, was to renew the bitterness of his remorse; and as he was
alone in the compartment, he passed the day staring at the landscape in
impotent repentance, and long before he was landed on the platform of
St. Enoch's, had fallen to the lowest and coldest zones of
self-contempt.
As he was hungry, and elegant in his habits, he would have preferred to
dine and to remove the stains of travel; but the words of the young
lady, and his own impatient eagerness, would suffer no delay. In the
late, luminous, and lamp-starred dusk of the summer evening he
accordingly set forward with brisk steps.
The street to which he was directed had first seen the day in the
character of a row of small suburban villas on a hillside; but the
extension of the city had, long since and on every hand, surrounded it
with miles of streets. From the top of the hill a range of very tall
buildings, densely inhabited by the poorest classes of the population
and variegated by drying-poles from every second window, overplumbed the
villas and their little gardens like a sea-board cliff. But still, under
the grime of years of city smoke, these antiquated cottages, with their
venetian blinds and rural porticoes, retained a somewhat melancholy
savour of the past.
The street, when Challoner entered it, was perfectly deserted. From hard
by, indeed, the sound of a thousand footfalls filled the ear; but in
Richard Street itself there was neither light nor sound of human
habitation. The appearance of the neighbourhood weighed heavily on the
mind of the young man; once more, as in the streets of London, he was
impressed by the sense of city deserts; and as he approached the number
indicated, and somewhat falteringly rang the bell, his heart sank within
him.
The bell was ancient, like the house; it had a thin and garrulous note;
and it was some time before it ceased to sound from the rear quarters of
the building. Following upon this an inner door was stealthily opened,
and careful and catlike steps drew near along the hall. Challoner,
supposing he was to be instantly admitted, produced his letter and, as
well as he was able, prepared a smiling face. To his indescribable
surprise, however, the footsteps ceased, and then, after a pause and
with the like stealthiness, withdrew once more, and died away in the
interior of the house. A second time the young man rang violently at the
bell; a second time, to his keen hearkening, a certain bustle of
discreet footing moved upon the hollow boards of the old villa; and
again the faint-hearted garrison only drew near to retreat. The cup of
the visitor's endurance was now full to overflowing; and, committing the
whole family of Fonblanque to every mood and shade of condemnation, he
turned upon his heel and redescended the steps. Perhaps the mover in the
house was watching from a window, and plucked up courage at the sight of
this desistance; or perhaps, where he lurked trembling in the back parts
of the villa, reason in its own right had conquered his alarms.
Challoner, at least, had scarce set foot upon the pavement when he was
arrested by the sound of the withdrawal of an inner bolt; one followed
another, rattling in their sockets; the key turned harshly in the lock;
the door opened; and there appeared upon the threshold a man of a very
stalwart figure in his shirt sleeves. He was a person neither of great
manly beauty nor of a refined exterior; he was not the man, in ordinary
moods, to attract the eyes of the observer; but as he now stood in the
doorway he was marked so legibly with the extreme passion of terror that
Challoner stood wonder-struck. For a fraction of a minute they gazed
upon each other in silence; and then the man of the house, with ashen
lips and gasping voice, inquired the business of his visitor. Challoner
replied, in tones from which he strove to banish his surprise, that he
was the bearer of a letter to a certain Miss Fonblanque. At this name,
as at a talisman, the man fell back and impatiently invited him to
enter; and no sooner had the adventurer crossed the threshold than the
door was closed behind him and his retreat cut off.
It was already long past eight at night; and though the late twilight of
the north still lingered in the streets, in the passage it was already
groping dark. The man led Challoner directly to a parlour looking on
the garden to the back. Here he had apparently been supping; for by the
light of a tallow dip, the table was seen to be covered with a napkin,
and set out with a quart of bottled ale and the heel of a Gouda cheese.
The room, on the other hand, was furnished with faded solidity, and the
walls were lined with scholarly and costly volumes in glazed cases. The
house must have been taken furnished; for it had no congruity with this
man of the shirt sleeves and the mean supper. As for the earl's
daughter, the earl and the visionary consulships in foreign cities, they
had long ago begun to fade in Challoner's imagination. Like Dr. Grierson
and the Mormon angels, they were plainly woven of the stuff of dreams.
Not an illusion remained to the knight-errant; not a hope was left him
but to be speedily relieved from this disreputable business.
The man had continued to regard his visitor with undisguised anxiety,
and began once more to press him for his errand.
"I am here," said Challoner, "simply to do a service between two ladies;
and I must ask you, without further delay, to summon Miss Fonblanque,
into whose hands alone I am authorised to deliver the letter that I
bear."
A growing wonder began to mingle on the man's face with the lines of
solicitude. "I am Miss Fonblanque," he said; and then, perceiving the
effect of this communication, "Good God!" he cried, "what are you
staring at? I tell you I am Miss Fonblanque."
Seeing the speaker wore a chin-beard of considerable length, and the
remainder of his face was blue with shaving, Challoner could only
suppose himself the subject of a jest. He was no longer under the spell
of the young lady's presence; and with men, and above all with his
inferiors, he was capable of some display of spirit.
"Sir," said he, pretty roundly, "I have put myself to great
inconvenience for persons of whom I know too little, and I begin to be
weary of the business. Either you shall immediately summon Miss
Fonblanque, or I leave this house and put myself under the direction of
the police."
"This is horrible!" exclaimed the man. "I declare before Heaven I am the
person meant, but how shall I convince you? It must have been Clara, I
perceive, that sent you on this errand--a madwoman, who jests with the
most deadly interests; and here we are, incapable, perhaps, of an
agreement, and Heaven knows what may depend on our delay!"
He spoke with a really startling earnestness; and at the same time there
flashed upon the mind of Challoner the ridiculous jingle which was to
serve as password. "This may, perhaps, assist you," he said; and then,
with some embarrassment: "'Nigger, nigger, never die.'"
A light of relief broke upon the troubled countenance of the man with
the chin-beard. "'Black face and shining eye'--give me the letter," he
panted, in one gasp.
"Well," said Challoner, though still with some reluctance, "I suppose I
must regard you as the proper recipient; and though I may justly
complain of the spirit in which I have been treated, I am only too glad
to be done with all responsibility. Here it is," and he produced the
envelope.
The man leaped upon it like a beast, and with hands that trembled in a
manner painful to behold, tore it open and unfolded the letter. As he
read, terror seemed to mount upon him to the pitch of nightmare. He
struck one hand upon his brow, while with the other, as if
unconsciously, he crumpled the paper to a ball. "My gracious powers!" he
cried; and then, dashing to the window, which stood open on the garden,
he clapped forth his head and shoulders and whistled long and shrill.
Challoner fell back into a corner, and resolutely grasping his staff,
prepared for the most desperate events; but the thoughts of the man with
the chin-beard were far removed from violence. Turning again into the
room, and once more beholding his visitor, whom he appeared to have
forgotten, he fairly danced with trepidation. "Impossible!" he cried.
"Oh, quite impossible! O Lord, I have lost my head." And then, once
more striking his hand upon his brow, "The money!" he exclaimed. "Give
me the money."
"My good friend," replied Challoner, "this is a very painful exhibition;
and until I see you reasonably master of yourself, I decline to proceed
with any business."
"You are quite right," said the man. "I am of a very nervous habit; a
long course of the dumb ague has undermined my constitution. But I know
you have money; it may be still the saving of me; and oh, dear young
gentleman, in pity's name be expeditious!"